Thoughts from the shore....
Keep Moving
No matter how far I travel, there will always be a world just beyond my fingertips. The bubble I create will only expand a certain distance before it pops and juicy spit falls in silence in the air in which I am not close enough to take in.
In many regards, my mark is left before I enter. As a cane introduces the blind man with the reality before him, so do my preconceived notions formulated within my current boundaries introduce and tickle my fears for what is to come. The world just beyond my fingertips feels oddly familiar because I have already dreamt of it, smelled it, and seen just enough to want to keep moving forward.
Exactly the Same
The clouds look exactly the same in Mexico, exactly the same as in America. However, the birds seem to whistle louder when I pass by, and not because I am wearing a bikini, but because I can hear them more clearly without the distractions of a trash truck, school bus, and bustling neighbors hurrying their children down the chilly sidewalks in the morning.
The wind is strong enough to frisk my body, and I have this urge to take off my clothes and give myself to the sky entirely. But if I dared to do so I know the couples passing by would be strangers no more as their eyes would befriend my nudity – raw and imperfect as their own.
In many regards we are exactly the same. As the clouds are to the sky so are we against the canvas of our humanity and humility.
My Yellow Boat
Every day I was drawn to it: My yellow boat. Too far to swim to and too close not to yearn for it. I became envious of the bird which rested proudly on the highest sail. The bird knew I wanted to be there, and he turned his beak from me obstinately when I stared at him too long as a rich man shuns the look of the beggar out of both guilt and pride.
I love you, yellow boat. Where would you take me if you could? To the places they tell of in passed down stories? To the edge of the world? And if you so dared to take me there, what would I find?
The blistering sun makes your yellow glide across the waters like butter spread by my will. I am calling you to me; yet, you stay away. The buttery waters are too soft to bridge my desire to your siren call. And again I dare to ask what would I find if I allowed my heart to travel within your sails?
At the end of it all if what I find is myself then it is worth every failed attempt to journey with you. For you, and only you, waited patiently just beyond my reach until I discovered I had wings. I became the bird looking away from my shadow and into the golden waters of opportunity. 
Yesterday Was a Fine Lover
New day brings about a new lover. Minutes spent are like old kisses which you remember fondly but have lost their taste. What once captivated my attention is at my back. And although I hear the faint and familiar melody, I am rusty in the dance.
Yesterday you were my present. Firm in your convictions, alive in your youthful playfulness. Today, well, today you are left behind as all moments will eventually be.
Oh yesterday, indeed you were a fine lover – but today has stolen your youth and built upon your dreams to create this tasty kiss – this new day of living and loving.
